


The Park

by ConceptaDecency



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Earth, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: A broken heart plays strange tricks. It can't be Elim Julian's just seen in the park. Why would his ex leave his warm home on Cardassia only to appear, unannounced, on a freezing Earth morning?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 37
Kudos: 206





	The Park

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [The Park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdTUvfOcG8c%E2%80%9D%20rel=) by Feist. One of the most poignant heartache songs I know.

_Why would he come_  
_Back through the park_  
_You thought that you saw him_  
_But no you did not_  
_Who can be sure_  
_Of anything through_  
_The distance that keeps you_  
_From knowing the truth_

_-_ Feist, The Park

It wasn’t him.

Julian released the breath he’d only just realised he’d been holding in. It didn’t clear the familiar sinking feeling in chest. A stocky man, a Vulcan, Julian now saw, strode past his bench, stoic but still troubled by the cold, his face and glossy black hair mostly obscured by a matching scarf and wooly hat patterned in bold jewel-toned geometric shapes.

Of course it wasn’t him. What an absurd notion. Why would he come here, of all places? Come all the way from his warm, comfortable bed in Cardassia City? (He was probably in that bed now, though the red Cardassian sun would be just licking into the room and he'd be getting up soon. It was currently just about dawn in Cardassia City, and early autumn, and a work day; these calculations Julian could not erase from his mind, even after two months. He wondered if he’d ever not be aware of the time and date and season in Cardassia City.) What possible reason would he have to cross the stars, only to arrive in London on a cold, grey January day, to surprise the man he’d so recently dismissed from his life? And how would he even know where in London to look? Well, he might, actually. And that little scrap of hope was, Julian supposed, why his eyes kept tantalising his heart with these cruel little lies.

 _'Jaysus fuck,'_ Miles had said on the video comm that morning. Julian’s morning. Over in San Francisco, Miles’ 11 at night. Miles had claimed never to have seen Julian so pale and thin, not even after months on the Defiant. _'When was the last time you left the flat to do anything other than go to work? Take a walk, Julian. Just an hour. Promise me. I’ve a half day tomorrow, so I’ll beam over to London my lunch time and we’ll go out somewhere for dinner and pints, okay?_ '

He had done as Miles instructed, but the streets were too crowded for him to find any peace. Was every other person in this city a broad-chested, broad-shouldered man who bustled, alert and purposeful, through the crowds, and whose dark hair shone with blue and fell like a silk curtain on the back of his neck? It couldn’t be so, but it seemed it. Julian had soon had enough of his heart leaping in hope and then twisting to land in his chest like a knot of overcooked liver, and so now here he was, sat on a bench in a quieter bit of Hyde Park, the morning so cold that a light dusting of snow covered everything, even the path. He’d been staring as the tendrils of steam rising from his tea became fainter and fainter. They’d disappeared now, which meant he’d stared so long that the tea had passed from too hot to too cold. He took a sip to test. Yes, it was vile. Lukewarm, and with the curious astringent blandness of a cup of tea done entirely wrong. Not enough sugar, either. 

Well. It was finish it or keep holding it until it was well and truly cold. Or go get another. The brick back wall of the tea room was visible through the skeletal trees, and just in case he’d forgotten the way, the dotted trail of his footprints indicated exactly the route he’d need to retread. But no. It wasn’t worth the effort. He’d just as well sit and deal with his misery here. The cold tea was his own fault, after all. Ten more minutes and he could head back to the flat anyway, having fulfilled his promise to Miles to ‘take a walk’ for an hour.

He took another sip. A big one, to get it over with.

Head back to the flat for what reason, exactly? So he could mope around, feeling fuzzy, not concentrating on backlogged medical journals, letting better-made cups of tea go cold on the kitchen table, while he stared at the floorboards, the walls, his comm unit, waiting the day out for Miles to get there? (But really waiting for a message from _him_ that was never going to come.) 

Too cold it may have been, but the cold didn’t really bother him like it would most humans, and there was nobody around to observe him not shivering or not particularly minding the wind blowing down the collar of his coat because he'd forgotten to wear his scarf. And at least out here in the park he was getting a bit of fresh air and sunshine. Which would do him good. He took another gulp, and then another, until the flimsy little cup was safely half empty. He settled it in the patch of snow under the bench, and, spreading his arms across the wooden backrest, closed his eyes and tilted his head back to face into the watery winter sun.

A few deep breaths and he set his concentration on the sounds of the park. Listening was calming. Staring at the insides of his eyelids was better than staring at nothing, and Julian's ears surely weren't going to deceive him like his treacherous eyes had. All he could hear were real Earth sounds, firmly cemented in reality. The wind whisking through the creaking oaks and chestnut trees. In the distance, faint crunching of footsteps in snow. Inquisitive coos from the pigeons, slowly getting louder as Julian’s stillness emboldened them. 

“Would you like some tea? It’s not very good.”

That voice. Muffled, but precise, with the barest hint of a sinuous foreign accent rarely heard on this side of the Alpha Quadrant. Julian didn’t jump, but he did sit up with a start, and his stupid heart leapt in renewed hope as his eyes flew open. 

The pigeons scattered, their wings thumping against the air.

Of course it was him. He was so insulated against the cold, booted and hooded and wrapped up tight in a black structured parka that nearly reached his knees, that barely any part of him was visible. Save for blue eyes peering through the thick black fur that lined the hood, and the bridge of a ridged grey nose that disappeared under the sleek fibres of a blue-and-gold scarf. 

But it was him. He held a steaming cup in each gloved hand.

“It is warm, however,” he said, offering one to Julian. “And extra sweet.”

Julian’s idiot heart was singing, but he made no move to receive the tea. “How did you do that? Just appear in front of me without making a sound?” He hadn’t beamed there. A fresh trail of footprints, leading from the tea room and ending at his boots, confirmed it. “Have you even _seen_ snow before?”

“I’ve _seen_ it,” he said. “Take it, Julian. It’s getting cold. And you’ve spilt yours.”

Julian followed his gaze down. The cup had toppled and caved and a brown stain was streaking through the zig-zag treads in his bootprint. 

“Fine,” he said, and gingerly took the cup from the gloved hand. He did not drink it. His heart did not need the encouragement hot tea and sugar would provide. “What are you doing here, Elim?”

Julian did not offer the bench, and so Elim remained standing, an arm’s distance away, on the snow-brushed path. He pushed back the hood with his free hand and unwound the scarf, exposing his face to the elements and to Julian. “I’ve taken a teaching post with the Iloja of Prim Institute of Cardassian Culture.”

Julian searched Elim’s face for a sign. No contrition, no regret, no sadness was evident. Nothing but bland, precautionary neutrality. But he found he was unable to be angered by this, as he should be. “Congratulations,” he said, attempting to keep his voice flat. “That's prestigious. In London?”

“No. Helsinki.”

“God's sake, Elim. That's even colder than here.”

Elim inclined his head in acknowledgment. "So I've heard. I’ve yet to become acquainted with the city. But it was important that I come."

"To Finland? In January?" 

“Mmmmmm. Cairo was another possibility.”

“You should have taken it. You’d love Cairo.” 

“That particular post will not be available for another four months.” Elim sipped his tea. “I didn’t have time to spare.”

“I see.” Julian saw. His idiot heart did too, and was performing loop-the-loops in his chest. “Why are you here, Elim?”

“Julian. You know why I’m here.”

“You told me to leave.”

“Cardassia didn’t suit you.”

“That wasn’t why.”

“No.”

“And yet you’re here.” And yet he was here!

“Yes. I...was mistaken.”

"I'll say you were. This isn't Helsinki," said Julian coldly, in defiance of his overflowing heart.

“No." Elim pursed his lips. "No, it is not."

"Did you get lost, Elim?"

"Get lost? Yes, I think perhaps I did." Elim glanced sideways and waved his hand. "But as for the reason I'm in London and not Helsinki, I thought it best that I located you as soon as I arrived on Earth. Perhaps you'll agree that we have things to discuss."

"You wanted to talk to me and you thought the best way to go about it was to surprise me in the park? Elim, you could have messaged me first and let me know you were coming." 

"Would you have agreed to see me?"

"I guess we'll never know." Julian knew. Of course he would have agreed. He crossed his arms in an attempt to seem colder. 

"I'd hoped we'd have time to talk this morning, but I didn't find you at home."

"You might have if you'd messaged me first. You and your drama."

"If you would like to call it that. Julian, I have to go. I'm already late for my first meeting in Helsinki. But will you join me there this evening? For dinner. And to talk.”

“No.” Of course he would have, if he’d been free. It was lucky he had plans with Miles. 

Elim’s eye ridge twitched. “Very well. I can come here, if that's preferable?”

“No. I’m busy, Elim.”

“I see.” Elim paused for a moment. “The post is for a year, Julian.”

“An Earth year?” 

“A Cardassian year.” 

"In Finland the whole time?"

"One doesn't generally transfer location mid-posting. Adherence to commitment is the Cardassian way."

“Is it?"

"We try, though we are imperfect creatures."

"That means one and a half Earth winters for you, Elim. Finnish winters."

"Yes."

"It must be important work.”

“It is. Very.”

Julian put on his grimmest face and let the silence lie. Elim could share a little of the distance and doubt Julian had been wallowing in the last two months. Back on Cardassia, had Elim's heart flip-flopped painfully every time a skinny frame in science blue had flickered by him in a crowd? Had Elim been running through memories, trying to pinpoint the exact moment things had started to go wrong and imagining what he could have done differently, if anything?

Well, if he was here, maybe he had. But it was still no reason not to let him dangle his heels in the air a little while.

Elim didn't speak for what Julian knew was only a matter of seconds, but what seemed like ages. He sipped his tea, and when no response from Julian was forthcoming, he nodded. "I understand," he said, crushing the empty cup in his hand. "Save for my address, my contact details haven't changed." He began to wind his scarf back around his neck. "I hope to hear from you. But I understand if I don't." With that he pulled the scarf back over his nose, raised his hood, and turned into the wind. 

Julian took a sip of his tea. It was the only thing he could do to stop himself from speaking too quickly. 

"Elim," he said, once he'd swallowed. The tea was still terrible, but it was sweet and warm.

Elim turned back, fragility etched into the scales and ridges of his face. He looked as if he was made of cut glass.

"You might as well send me your new address when you get to Helsinki." Another leisurely sip. A breath while he watched Elim soften as tentative hope dripped life back into him. Another breath, nearly a sigh, while he circled the rim of the cup with one finger. "I might have some time for you tomorrow evening."

**Author's Note:**

> We have so many fics where Julian rushes off to inhospitable Cardassia to surprise Garak. I thought it was only fair the opposite happen for once. 
> 
> Kudos, comments, and conversation much encouraged, and if you like it, why not share it with someone else?


End file.
